


legacy

by mangobilorian



Series: the danger of cuteness [5]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Crack, Father-Son Relationship, Force Sensitivity, Gen, Lightsaber
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-16
Updated: 2020-08-16
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:21:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,568
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25868122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mangobilorian/pseuds/mangobilorian
Summary: He hears a gasp from his side, and the saber drops on the floor with a gentle thud. Jango snaps his head to his son, who looks like he saw a ghost.“Dad? You saw that right?” Jango nods mutely, too confused to process.Or: Jango finds another reason to kill Mace Windu.
Relationships: Boba Fett & Jango Fett
Series: the danger of cuteness [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1817743
Comments: 3
Kudos: 107





	legacy

“Why. Are. You. So. Dirty,” Jango growls, wiping at Boba’s forehead. Large splotches of dirt decorate his son’s face, and Boba has the gall to look angry while Jango tries to clean him up. Boba mutters some expletives (which warrants another lecture but he’ll save it for another time) as Jango roughly wipes the dirt away. 

Two soiled rags later, Boba’s face is bright and clean. Not necessarily clean in a soap and water sort of way, but it’ll do. For now, Jango has to focus on the next thing in his priority list: the reason behind Boba getting dirty in the first place.

“Did Windu do this to you?” he snarls. Boba scoffs, crossing his arms. 

“No. He taught me how to meditate, and I ended up taking a nap.” 

“Face down on the ground?”

 _"Ye_ _s_ , on the ground. It’s not like he carried me back on his ship.” The thought of Windu taking his son, his _everything_ , infruiarates Jango to no end. He hates that Boba and Windu are friends. He hates it. When Windu sends a gift, Jango wants to burn it to the ground. He tries everything he can to separate them, but Windu is relentless. Every time the _Slave I_ lands on Coruscant and Boba’s asleep, Jango always takes the opportunity to assassinate Windu. But that man is too slimy and always seems to know when Jango will be on the planet. He’s beginning to think that Boba tells him. 

“Where did Windu go after? Why was he even here?” Boba shrugs.

“I think he’s going back to Coruscant for a bit. He asked where I was ‘cause he got me a gift. Look,” he smiles, rummaging at his side pockets to procure a cylindrical object. “He got me a training saber!” Jango wants to yank it out of Boba’s hand. No True Mandalorian would wield a weapon like that, much less his own son. 

“So you want to be a Jedi now,” he drawls. Jango makes his voice sound indifferent, but he’s fuming (and a little scared) on the inside. He hates everything about the Jedi, and Jango hates Windu most of all but- Windu would have cut his head off if Boba wasn’t on Geonosis. He can see it plain as day: the too-fast swing of a purple lightsaber aimed right at the junction of his neck and head. It took Boba breaking away and sandwiching himself between the two for Windu to stop. 

He thought that was the end of their interactions. Jango never expected Windu to keep in contact with Boba, and he never anticipated Boba to actually like Windu. Karking hells.

“Of course not. Blasters are much more fun. Besides, Mace said it’ll help with getting us into Republic worlds if people think I’m an Initiate or something,” Boba explains. He’s right, Jango concedes. It’s getting harder and harder to stop on Republic worlds. He thought it would be easy since the GAR is made up of his own clones, but the galaxy also knows of his ties with Dooku. Coruscant is the only Republic planet he can land on with ease, and Jango begrudgingly admits that Windu probably had some say with that. Thankfully, most civilians have never seen a clone cadet, so Boba passes as a regular kid. 

With a lightsaber… they’d be accepted everywhere.

Boba turns the lightsaber in his hand and flicks it on. The blue blade ignites, but the light is significantly weaker than any saber Jango’s seen. “Wow. My own lightsaber.” 

“What happened to blasters being cool?” 

“Oh yeah. Blasters will always be better.” Boba turns the weapon off, shuffling out of his dirtied clothes and into some cleaner ones. Jango should really do some laundry somewhere soon or their wardrobe of two outfits each (armor counts as clothes, right?) will wear thin. Jango sits on the built-in cot, and Boba slides next to him. 

Ever since Boba turned nine, he didn’t want to sleep in the same bed as Jango anymore (something like “my brothers get their own beds, so why not me?”), and it hurts Jango to see his son grow up. Already, Boba has a better childhood than Jango did, and it crushes him to realize that if Boba never spoke, he’d be dead. If Windu really wanted to kill Jango, he would. 

“I have an idea,” Boba starts, waving his once-again ignited training saber in the air much too dangerously for Jango’s liking. “What if we go to Kamino, and have my brothers shoot at me, and I can deflect the bolts with my saber!” 

“No.”

“But, _dad_ ,” Boba groans, turning his pleading eyes to Jango. “You said if I wanted to master a weapon, I need to practice a lot. How can I be good at lightsabers if I don’t practice?”

“You don’t practice since you won’t be using a real lightsaber anyway. You need the Force or something. Besides, the clones are busy with training,” Jango declares with an air of finality, taking Boba’s saber and turning it off. What Jango said is true: the clones undergo extensive physical training as well as constant battle simulations. They need to perform at their highest capacity to even graduate, and his son would only be a distraction. 

Boba raises an eyebrow. “Mastering many weapons is good, right? It isn’t bad if I do or don’t use a lightsaber anyway. And my _brothers_ can practice training. I can pretend to be Dooku, and they’ll be the troopers who blast him.” Boba looks so smug that Jango wants to say no out of spite. Well, he can never say no Boba, but he needs to be a parent sometimes. 

“The clones are supposed to fight droids. The Jedi will deal with the Sith.” _Especially_ with Dooku. Aside from avoiding the Republic, Jango also has to avoid his former employer like the plague. 

“Dad. They’re my brothers, not just-”

“That’s enough, Boba,” Jango orders. He turns to his son with a hard look, determined to show that he’s serious. Boba’s face crumples into anger. 

“No. It’s not. You can’t-”

“I can. They’re my clones, and-”

“I’m a clone too! And your son so-”

“You’re unaltered. That’s different.”

“But the clones were made to be even better! They’re your sons too.”

“Boba. This conversation is over,” he commands. The discussion of the clones being his sons seems to be one of Boba’s favorites and the one Jango dreads the most. Why can’t Boba see that he’s special? That he’s the one and only clone Jango loves because Boba is entirely his own? When the Kaminoans gave him a swaddled child, slightly wet and fussy, Jango melted with emotions he didn’t know he had. Boba may be a clone, but he’s Jango’s son first. The other clones aren’t. 

Jango sighs and stands up, but there—floating in the air— is Boba’s training saber. It’s unlit and pointed away, but it’s definitely floating. Jango stares, as if in a trance. How can-

He hears a gasp from his side, and the saber drops on the floor with a gentle thud. Jango snaps his head to his son, who looks like he saw a ghost. 

“Dad? You saw that right?” Jango nods mutely, too confused to process. While his own face looks shocked, Boba’s borders on amazement. “I think. That was me. I did that.” He points to the saber with a trembling finger. 

Jango shakes his head feverishly. No. His son can’t be Force-sensitive. He _can’t_. Boba’s an exact clone with no changes, so how in kriffing hells is Boba Force-sensitive? His son will never be a Jedi; Jedi are the ancient enemies of the Mandalorians! And- wait. Will they take him away? Jango will never, _ever_ give Boba up to the Jedi. Never. He’d be dead before that-

“Dad, it’s fine.” A small hand lands on his shoulder, and Jango forces himself to relax. 

“I just- how can you-”

“I really don’t know. Since Mace taught me to meditate, I’ve been feeling weird. Like my head is all clear and stuff. And when I got angry…” _he used the Force_ , Jango finishes in his head. Well kriff. 

“So…. What happens now? You’re a- a Jedi.” Boba rolls his eyes.

“Not every Force-sensitive becomes a Jedi. Besides, I’m sure Mace can teach me a few tricks.” Windu. Of course Windu will have some say in Boba’s future. Because Boba can move things with his mind now, and Windu’s the head of the Jedi Order. He opens his mouth to reply, but Boba beats him to it.

“I’m staying with you no matter what. I’m never gonna leave.” Jango releases a breath. He always hopes that Boba will stay by him, but there’s no guarantee. Jango could have died many times and left Boba an orphan. And when Boba grows up, he might decide to go on his own way: an endeavor Jango will support with a heavy heart. But for now, Boba’s reassurance is all he needs. 

Jango pulls his son into a hug, and Boba’s arms wrap around his waist. He’s still small, but he’s nothing like the baby Jango first saw either. Whether Boba has a lightsaber or a blaster, Jango knows his son will be the most honorable man he can be. 

“I know. I love you, Boba,” he says into the top of Boba’s head.

“Love you too, dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> with an unsurprising lack of fathers in star wars, it's hard to resist writing boba-jango fics
> 
> come and chat with me @https://mangobilorian.tumblr.com/


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